Survivor Guilt
by Animegoil
Summary: Humans are weak, they die all the time, he tells Tsuzuki. Touda attempts to understand what his master is going through. TsuzukiTouda


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Touda thought his master felt too much.

It had been an unfortunate accident, but Touda still could not understand why Tsuzuki felt so guilty about it, when it'd had nothing to do with him. Guilty enough to come to their world, because apparently in the real world, Tsuzuki and his partner Tat-something or the other were having problems. That was something else Touda could not comprehend—how could anyone not see the merit in Tsuzuki, merit that all twelve of his shikigamis had been able to unearth and blindly followed. Touda could do little else but to chalk it up to humans being worthless, unintelligent creatures.

The reason he even knew about the accident that had spawned this unusual visit from his master was because he had been the one Tsuzuki had called on to control the fire. But though Touda had done just as his master commanded and extinguished the fire that had overtaken the building Tsuzuki had been investigating, there had been no survivors. Touda had not batted an eye when informed of the casualties—humans were weaklings.

However, only a few short hours after his return back to the shiki world, Suzaku had scathingly informed him that her 'dearest Tsuzuki-sama' had been looking for him, and added, with eyes of cold fire, that he better take good care of him. Touda had grunted derisively and left before she was tempted into a confrontation with him. He _always_ took good care of Tsuzuki, and resented the fact that she'd had the audacity to remind say that to him. He would protect Tsuzuki with his life. What better care could be taken?

He looked for Tsuzuki then, and was surprised not to find him in his favorite rose garden, or near the lagoon he normally dozed at. In fact, Touda was beginning to grow frustrated and, dare he say— worried?— when he heard a wild shiki mutter something about humans near the wasteland. He refrained from retorting to that lowly creature that his master was more than a 'human'.

'Above' was a more accurate term, since Tsuzuki had not descended the cliff that sectioned off the desert wastelands from the rest of their lush world. The crumbled, parched expanse writhed under the heat of the sun, so dry even the sparse sand had a brittle touch. Touda parted his hair from his forehead uncomfortably, wishing that, as a snake shikigami, his temperature didn't fluctuate so much in accordance to his surroundings.

Tsuzuki sat at the edge of the precipice, legs pulled to his chest, chin digging to his knees, while his eyes roamed mindlessly. Something in the position didn't sit well with Touda, regardless of the fact that human stances were not one of his areas of expertise, or even general interest.

"Master," he called after a moment. Tsuzuki did not react, did not appear to have even heard. Touda felt suddenly wary, all the little odd details adding up to an equation he didn't understand, and took another step closer.

"Tsuzuki," he called again, and this time, his master blinked once, slowly, as if recollecting the scattered pieces of himself that the desert wind had blown away. It took four seconds, his mind automatically informed him, for Tsuzuki to turn to him, and then, all he did was pat the dusty, cracked stone next to him— _You're dirtying your clothes, Master,_ Touda thought absently— while his face remained blank and unseeing.

"Touda," Tsuzuki murmured after a while, and Touda thought his voice sounded like the trickling of water, weak and broken, and so easily disturbed.

"Touda," he repeated minutes later, lying his head against Touda's arm, his small fingers brushing the shiki's muscles, a skitter of sensation Touda wondered if proper to relish like he did, "Can I sit on your lap?"

"Of course, Master," Touda answered immediately, and was surprised at both the request and the softness of his answering voice. He twisted to the side and scooped up his master, placing him gently on his lap, his large thighs easily accommodating him.

"Tsuzuki," he murmured, "Your skin is hot," it was to be expected, and what Touda couldn't understand was why his master was still wearing his suit, when his hairline was damp with perspiration, as were the corners of his eyes and the collar of his suit. He eased the dark jacket from his master's shoulders with respectful hands, while Tsuzuki said nothing and let himself be handled like a rag doll, until he was left in his white dress shirt underneath. Despite that, Touda called to the air, and it responded by lowering the temperature around them to a more comfortable point, the now-mild heat wrapping around them like a blanket.

But Tsuzuki, as opposed to appearing grateful for the drop in temperature, shrunk into himself and burrowed against Touda's chest, pressing his face right at the spot above his heart and sighing softly, "Oh, Touda…"

Touda did not respond, only wrapped an arm about his master, wondering at the softness of the dark tufts of hair that brushed against his forearm. Tsuzuki stirred, and his movements were all languid as if moving through a strangling fog, it took a multitude of crawling seconds for him to reach up and place his hands on Touda's visor, tugging once, twice, as if his arms had not the strength to slide them off in one smooth motion. They nearly fell from his grasp, and Tsuzuki fumbled to keep his grip on them once Touda's face was revealed. The glare of the sun was unwelcome, though Touda did not flinch from it, but the brightness of Tsuzuki's face— so pale, why?— was enticing, and Touda leaned forward, cradling his master tighter in his grasp.

"You have beautiful eyes, Touda," Tsuzuki said softly, his amethyst gaze never leaving Touda's face, and Touda frowned inwardly. Snake eyes, slanted and black as night; they could not compare in any way with Tsuzuki's jeweled eyes. Though, now that he had them looking straight at him for his observation, they were strangely… empty. The shine Touda had unknowingly accustomed himself to was gone, and it took him a second to reconcile himself with the fact that yes, they were still Tsuzuki's eyes. It felt like staring into a stranger's eyes, empty as the vast, endless expanse that surrounded them, but lacking its heat.

"What do they see me as?"

Tsuzuki's fingers clutched at the thin fabric of Touda's shirt, the edge of his fingernails digging through the cloth and into the shiki's skin. Touda felt suddenly naked without his visor, did not like the pained intensity, the broken, desperate urgency that soaked through his master's forced placid tone.

"I— I see my master," Touda answered, unsure what the lump in his throat meant, a ball that twitched uselessly in the back of his throat and impeded the air flow and the workings of his muscles. What kind of a question was his master asking him?

However truthful his answer may have been, it was not the one Tsuzuki was looking for, and if anything, made him look even more anguished, fingers clenching and unclenching where they had fallen against Touda's bare stomach. They were cold, and Touda associated the nauseating whirlpool in the pit of his abdomen to their temperature.

Why the remorse in his master's eyes? Why the pain in his voice?

Touda did not like the frantic edge to his mind's usually controlled thoughts.

His master fit so neatly on Touda's lap, he noticed. Touda placed his chin on top of his master's head, wrapping his arms carefully around Tsuzuki again.

"Touda… there wasn't a single survivor," Tsuzuki's voice broke out abruptly, his face lowering so that it was no longer comfortable for Touda to retain his chin's former position, "I watched them take the bodies away one by one from the ashes, and put them in these ugly plastic bags and zip them up…" his master shuddered, and Touda couldn't understand why—it was hot, if anything, "And no one could see me. I was the only one who survived the fire," _because I would not let you die,_ Touda thought forcefully, "There— there were children, and their mothers, and I couldn't save any of them!"

Tsuzuki's voice had whittled away like a thin thread as he spoke, climbing steadily into higher octaves, and here it faded with a last gasp of breath. His hands, similarly, had escalated in the intensity with which they nearly clawed at the arm Touda had wrapped around him, but Touda dutifully made no sign of it. His mind was occupied with the sudden stirrings of alarm, the drops of warmth that trickled gradually down his arm.

He opened his mouth, incomprehensive of where, exactly, the problem lay, "Master… humans are weak. They die all the time. Why do you let these few deaths distress you so?"

Tsuzuki shook his head with vehement, desperate force, though his face was still pressed tightly against Touda's arm. He continued to refuse looking up, and his shoulders were trembling like rippling water, "Touda," he began, "Touda, it wasn't just a few. It was thirteen people! And I… it's always like this! I watched everyone I knew since I was a kid grow old and die. I watched newborns grow and marry and finally die, and I could _never join them_!"

Touda hated the fact that he could gather conclusions from a multitude of data, could accurately observe and analyze cause and effect and plan out battle tactics, but when it came to Tsuzuki…

"Master," Touda simply did not understand, and said so, with a hint of hesitance in his voice that he tried hard to dispose of, "but you are not human. You are not weak; it's only natural that you do not die," he placed a large hand on the trembling spread of Tsuzuki's back, dipping his head until his lips accidentally brushed against the tip of Tsuzuki's ear and whispered fiercely, "And you never will, because I will protect you always. I will not let you die, Tsuzuki."

Tsuzuki's breath hitched at his words, words that Touda belatedly realized he'd never meant to reveal to anyone, because they were supposed to be duty, not sentiment. When they had changed from former to latter, he wasn't sure, but it did not affect the strength of his belief.

Tsuzuki was silent for twelve seconds short of a minute, at which he let out a weak chuckle and pulled himself up, dragging his hands up to cling from Touda's neck as he settled his face below Touda's collarbone. Touda was much too conscious of the steady breath warming that particular spot on his chest, flexing his fingers in an attempt to release some of the tension lying taut in his stomach.

"Oh, Touda," Tsuzuki murmured, and Touda went rigid at the feel of his master's lips brushing his skin. The sensation was soft, and though Touda told himself it wasn't far from feeling a leaf brushing against his skin, the spot of hot breath told him otherwise and somehow made him _feel_ otherwise. His master continued, oblivious to his shiki's silent bewilderment, "I guess I shouldn't have expected you to understand."

Touda paused and frowned. There was no reproach in his tone, no scolding, but nonetheless, the words stung, "Master, if you explain it to me, surely—"

Tsuzuki lifted his head, finally, and smiled, tired and sad, but with a hint of true amusement, "I don't think you _can_, Touda."

Touda said nothing, displeased with the fact that once again, he did not understand what his master meant, and wondering where he had gone wrong to not even merit his master's attempt to explain. But his master, as opposed to leaving him or becoming upset, instead raised a hand to cup Touda's cheek, and Touda stiffened at the heat that spread from it, unable to discern whether it was his or Tsuzuki's. His heartbeat was increasing, and Touda did not know whether it was in correlation to his master's actions— was that even possible?

"But you know, Touda… your words still made me feel a little better," Tsuzuki admitted, fingers brushing in a seesaw motion against Touda's cheek, "So thank you."

He wondered, hours later with Tsuzuki nothing more than a limp rag doll sleeping in his arms, whether it was possible that this was what Suzaku had meant when she'd said to take care of him.

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So yes. Review, please and thank you!


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